16 December 2009


Man it's a stinker. Not a 'hot one, like seven inches from the midday sun' glamour heat like Rob Thomas sang in the 1999 hit Smooth with Santana. It's just a stinker. And I don't feel so glamourous, like those sunkissed, sun loving models dancing around in the Smooth video clip.

As I said before, my skin doesn't handle the heat. One of the things about ichthyosis is that my body doesn't regulate its temperature. So I generally feel quite cold inside, but hot to the touch, and have a difficult time cooling down. Confusing.

So it's my second blog entry here. And I don't mean to be negative. But I'm going to be honest in this blog. And being honest usually means being realistic about the social and medical challenges of my illness. To an extent of course - there are things about my illness that will stay in my head and in my home.

I went out to get some dinner and escape the heat in my local massive shopping centre. I bought a few extra Christmas presents, and was on the hunt for some silver sandals to wear with my new maxi dress to the work Christmas party. No luck, I hate buying shoes because my feet are really small, and none of them were 'simple' enough except for a pair in gold, BUT I WANTED SILVER. I digress.

So I'm looking at some shoes in a department store. A kid in a trolley was crying, having a tantrum. And then he saw me. He was about three.

He pointed to me, said to his Mum, 'she's horrible'.

His Mum was very embarrassed, very apologetic.

I said to him 'I was born like this, just like you were born with your blue eyes'.

He replied 'you're still horrible'.

His Mum said 'but she's still a nice lady'.


So as the kid said I'm horrible, in quite a loud voice, other shoppers looked at me.

It would have been funny if it wasn't so awkward.

So now I'm going to sound like a condescending, holier than thou bitch, but I will say it anyway.

If you think you've had a fat day/bad hair day/your boyfriend wanted to stay home and play Playstation instead of watching the Notebook with you...well get some perspective. I was bloody well called horrible by some kid, and stared at by countless others.

I can't really explain what it feels like to be stared at because you're different. It probably feels worse than being stared at because you're beautiful. I hate the feeling of knowing people are scared of me, shocked, confronted, surprised and judgemental. Sometimes I just want to be stared at because someone think's I'm beauituful.

I promise my next blog entry will be more positive. But it felt good to vent :)


  1. Oh Carly, lots of hugs for you. I can't even imagine how that would've felt.

    If you ever need cheering up and to be reminded about how nice people can be, check out www.operationbeautiful.com

    It's all about telling people how beautiful they are, just like you are!


  2. Thanks for your kind words Polly.
    I will have a look at the website soon x

  3. So awful :( I'm pretty outraged at the ignorance of the mother who should have taught her son that 'no, she's not horrible'


  4. Oh Carly, said with a big sigh here...that is just horrendous. I agree, his mother should have really pulled him up on that. She is certainly not setting a good example of him.

    Just a suggestion Carly to save the 'awkwardness' you could have said to him - "No one is horrible we are just all different", but that is just a thought, up to yourself.

    I know the feeling when you are singled out to highlight what is 'wrong' with you. it is not a nice feeling at all. Just try to ignore it the best you can and know that you are worthy beautiful just as you are. I have learned to accept how my condition looks and that goes a very long way in not being offended when kids question or point at it.

    All the best


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